Butter
by McAWrites
Summary: Fred and George run out of butter and hilarity ensues as they attempt to acquire more. Also, most of the castle seems to have lost their minds. Just another night at Hogwarts.


Author's Note: Fair warning, I wrote this high school (2006-ish) and found it in the back of my American History notebook labeled "I'm Bored."

Disclaimer: I don't own The Harry Potter series or Lucky Charms.

* * *

"I think you would make a good cannibal," Fred informed his brother George as the pair sat at their house table long after everyone else had left the Great Hall. It was getting close to curfew, but the twins weren't concerned about getting caught.

"And why would you think that, Fred?" George demanded, spewing chunks as he attempted to speak with his mouth full and gesturing wildly with the chicken leg in his hand.

"That is all that remains of your fourth full chicken," Fred explained, wiping the partially chewed chicken off of his face, "I don't think that a human would be much of a stretch."

"Huh," commented George, placing the bone on his plate he began shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. Fred watched him as if mesmerized. "Say Fred, can you pass the butter?"

"There isn't anymore!" Fred declared, horrified. "You ate it all."

"That's not possible," exclaimed George, "there was half a stick less than an hour ago."

"Well, you have had seven servings of potatoes since then," Fred gently reminded his brother.

"I like potatoes," George replied defensively, "Is it a crime for a man to like potatoes?"

"No," Fred started to reply.

"THEN WHY IS THE BUTTER GONE?" George howled in anguish.

"Arg," Fred groaned. This conversation was getting old fast. "Because, brother dearest, YOU ATE IT."

"Yeah, but this is a MAGICAL school," George said reasonably, "So shouldn't the butter dish, like, magically refill itself?"

"I don't know, George," said Fred, "perhaps if we just sit here and STARE AT IT for a while the butter will magically appear before our very eyes!"

"That is a brilliant plan Fred," George exclaimed enthusiastically, leaning forward to stare at the empty butter dish with as much intensity as he could muster. Fred moved to the other side of the table and did the same.

**Twenty Minutes Later…**

"Did you see that Fred?" George asked, his excitement showing as he leapt from his seat and pointed at the butter dish, "I swear that plate just twitched."

"I think you are seeing things George," Fred sighed in exasperation, "maybe we should keep staring, only this time IMAGINE the butter APPEARING in the dish. Come on, concentrate!"

George was now staring so hard at the butter dish that his left eye was beginning to twitch. At that exact moment, a door opened somewhere nearby. Still trying to concentrate on the empty butter dish, the twins heard footsteps echoing across the hall. Whoever it was, was coming toward them.

"There you are!" a familiar voice exclaimed, sounding somewhat annoyed. "What are you doing? I've been searching for you for ages!"

"We are trying to make the butter appear!" explained George, gesturing towards the empty butter dish in front of him, "come over and help us Ron!"

"You do know that you are not going to make the butter appear just by staring at the dish, right?" Ron asked hesitantly as he sat down at the table beside his brothers.

"Of course we know that," Fred grunted indignantly, "we are imagining that the butter is already there, and concentrating on making it happen!"

"Oh," Ron said thoughtfully as he began to stare at the empty butter dish as well, "that just might work."

A few minutes later…

"Um guys?" said Ron, "this isn't working."

"Then you are not concentrating hard enough." Shouted George. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't get some butter into his system soon. Ron didn't back down.

"Well, maybe if we WISH for the butter to appear, we might have more luck."

"Hmm," said Fred, considering the suggestion. "Okay, let's do that."

* * *

**Meanwhile in the Gryffindor Common Room…**

"Ugh," exclaimed Hermione Granger bursting out of the girl's dorms in a fit of rage and looking slightly murderous, "where is he?"

"Who?" Harry Potter asked with his signature cluelessness. Hermione saw through his act instantly.

"Harry James Potter, you know perfectly well who I'm talking about," she roared, "His name starts with 'Ron' and ends with 'Weasley'. He's about yay tall and is often seen following a dark haired boy with glasses."

"Never heard of him," Harry replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

"You're in on it too!" Hermione hissed with sudden understanding.

"What?" Harry asked, "With who?"

"You know what with you know who, you numbskull!" Hermione shouted, not even trying to remain unheard.

"Shh," Harry hissed, his face going red as everyone in the common room turned to stare at the quarreling twosome by the fire. It was too late they realized, the damage had been done. "I'll go look for him."

Harry wandered aimlessly though the school for what seemed like hours. He really had no idea what or whom he was looking for. Now that rumors of him doing something inappropriate with Lord Voldemort were spreading like wild fire throughout the school, he had absolutely no desire to be in the common room. He decided to check out the room of requirement. However, all he found there was Neville Longbottom, sitting in a beanbag chair with a rolled up joint between his lips.

"Harry!" Neville exclaimed, "I found this plant, when you set it on fire it makes you feel really good! Come, try some!"

Harry gave it a try, sinking into the purple bean bag chair that had appeared next to Neville's. The two boys smoked in silence, occasionally bursting into random fits of giggles.

Eventually though, Harry remembered that he was supposed to be looking for somebody, and was forced to bid Neville a good night.

'What now?' he thought as he moved down the corridor and heard what sounded like really loud rock music. Moments later a large staircase moved and Cedric Diggory ran out. 'Huh, I guess that's the Hufflepuff common room.' Harry watched as the other boy raced through the halls, wondering if it was the drugs affecting his judgment, or if the prefect really had been naked.

Harry decided to check the great hall to see if perhaps that was where whoever he was looking for had gone.

"Good plan darlin'." The portrait of a witch in a cowboy hat behind him said, "You do that."

"Thanks," he muttered.

* * *

**Meanwhile in the Great Hall…**

"Gah!" exclaimed Fred, "This isn't working!"

"Maybe we should wish OUT LOUD," Ron suggested, eyeing the butter dish intently.

"Why not," agreed George, then loudly declared, "I wish I had some butter!"

"I wish the butter dish was full of butter!" The three Weasley's began to chant, "I wish the butter dish was full of butter!"

A door opened somewhere out of sight and Cedric streaked through the room, practically bouncing off the walls and shrieking as he ran.

"They're after me Lucky Charms!" the prefect howled, running up the Weasley's and leaping onto the table. He landed with both of his bare feet in a pan of mashed potatoes splashing all of them, then proceeded to squish his toes around in the starchy white mush.

"Does anyone else smell Fire Whiskey?" George asked dryly.

"Whoa," Ron exclaimed, clearly amused that Diggory appeared to be enjoying the feeling of potatoes between his toes a little too much, "Diggory is drunk a shit, and streaking through the school!"

"Huh," Fred sighed thoughtfully, "I wonder if he knows where the butter is."

"I'll ask," declared George, whipping out his wand a casting a full body bind on the naked Prefect. The older boy promptly fell out of the potato dish and hit his head on a bench on his way to landing unconsciously on the floor. George examined the results of his spell. "Whoops."

* * *

Harry, in his altered state, was still wandering aimlessly through the corridors seemingly unable to find the Great Hall. He had taken to asking the portraits for advice, unfortunately, they seemed to enjoy messing with him. He was beginning to realize that their advice ran the spectrum from not being accurate to being completely bazaar. He was now hopelessly lost.

"It's right through that door, Sugar," The Fat Lady informed him, gesturing toward the door across the hall. Harry opened said door, and knew immediately that this was not the Great Hall.

What he saw instead was quite terrifying. He was in the staff room, he recognized it from the time he and Ron had hid in the closet. Only now, all of the chairs had been pushed back against the wall and all of the professors sat in a circle in the center of the room. He sure was glad he had remembered to wear his invisibility cloak. The professors all wore pajamas and were spinning a bottle.

The bottle landed on Dumbledore.

"Alright Albus," demanded tiny Professor Flitwick, "truth or dare?"

"Dare," Albus answered, after considering his options thoughtfully.

"I dare you to kiss Severus," Flitwick laughed joyfully, glancing around to see the look on the Potion Master's face, he frowned,"where is Severus?"

"He was here a minute ago," shrugged McGonagall, "Just do truth Albus."

"Fine," groaned Flitwick, "is it true that you…"

* * *

A door in the Great Hall opened again.

"Ugh," groaned Fred, "What now?"

"Weasley," shouted an unfortunately familiar voice.

"Snape!" hissed Ron. The Professor was already striding across the room.

"What are you doing?" Snape demanded, taking in the scene, "you should all be in bed."

"We're waiting for the butter," George informed the man, indicating the empty butter dish. "Why are you in here?"

"I'm, er, I'm avoiding the staff pajama party," Snape muttered. Upon spotting Cedric passed out under the table, Snape turned back to the Weasley's, "Is he drunk?"

"Yes," Ron answered, before going back to wishing for butter.

"Are you all stupid?" Snape demanded, "You are supposed to PLEAD with the dish."

"Oh," said Fred, he looked at the empty butter dish and leaned forward to speak to it, "please, please, please give me some butter."

"Here butter, butter, butter, butter! Here butter, butter, butter!" Ron called enthusiastically. George slapped him.

"Are you completely mental? You can't talk to the butter dish like that!" Exclaimed Snape, "You're insulting it! Apologize!"

"Okay!" Ron exclaimed, looking down at the butter dish, "I'm sorry!"

"Ron?" a confused voice asked from behind them. The group spun around to see who was had entered the room now. "Um, why are you apologizing to a butter dish?"

"Because, Potter," Snape said indignantly as though the answer should be obvious, "he insulted it!"

"Oh," replied Harry. Like Snape had before him, Harry was now also taking in the scene in front of him. The three Weasley's gathered around the empty butter dish. Snape in his onesie footed pajamas, and naked Cedric passed out beneath the table. Add to that Hermione's misplaced anger and Harry's earlier adventures with Neville in the Room of Requirement, and Mr. Potter was having one hell of a night. "So, um, what are you guys doing?"

"Trying to get butter," three different voices said at the same time.

"Oh, well why don't you just SUMMON the butter?" suggested Harry, "Here, I'll do it. Accio Butter!"

Nothing happened.

"Well that didn't work," Ron commented as the seconds passed.

"Obviously not," sneered Snape. "Allow me. Accio Butter!"

Still nothing.

"Perhaps we should send somebody to the kitchen," suggested Fred.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Ron moaned, slapping his palm to his forehead.

"Good idea, Fred," George agreed, "let's send Cedric."

"But he's drunk and passed out on the floor," Ron reminded his brothers.

"I am?" Cedric asked, blinking profusely as he attempted to sit up. Unfortunately, as he did so he hit his head on the bench once more, and knocked himself unconscious yet again.

"Well, if nobody else needs me, I've got some business to attend to in the Room of Requirement," Harry told his friends, forgetting entirely his original reason for leaving the common room. Nobody was paying him any attention as the three Weasley's were busy arguing over who was going to the kitchen to visit the House Elves and request more butter.


End file.
